


A Gentleman

by unbearable_lightness_of_ink



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff without Plot, Marriage Proposal, Sappy, gratuitously maudlin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:41:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26328817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unbearable_lightness_of_ink/pseuds/unbearable_lightness_of_ink
Summary: "Because as long as it's been, I'm still just a guy from the 40's trying to do something decent with his life, and my Momma raised me to be a gentleman, no matter what."* * *Steve is the worst at proposing; fortunately for him, Maria isn't about to let him keep brooding.
Relationships: Maria Hill/Steve Rogers
Kudos: 3





	A Gentleman

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not really sure I stand by this fic; I think the dialogue isn't very in character, and it's gratuitously sappy, even cleaned up a little bit from the original version, but it was cathartic for baby me when I wrote it a lot of years ago.

_Don't - uff - do anything - uff - stupid, Rogers._

The _thud_ of his fists hitting the punching bag and the huff of his rapid breathing punctuated his silent lecture to himself.

_She's already - uff - scared of this._

He had broken one bag already this morning. It was lying like a war casualty against the wall on the other side of the gym. He'd hooked this one up without a word or a moment's hesitation and started in on it.

_Don't wreck - uff - a good thing._ Thud. Thud. Thud thud _thud_.

The bag swung a little on its chain. Heavy canvas gave minutely under his solid punches. He'd been at this since before dawn, arguing with himself, beating the living daylights out of the bags.

_But you're - uff - gonna be miserable - uff - how much longer can you - uff - keep this up?_

There were a few other guys in the gym - uniformed agents hitting bags and sparring. They'd started showing up about the time sunlight started filtering in the dusty windows, and they'd been giving him curious looks up until the first bag had broken off its chain. After that they had kept their looks a little more subtle.

_Keep - uff - control._

He didn't sleep much these days. Every week or two, sometimes even less often, he might sleep a night or catch a nap. It was like his body was making up for all those years by completely rejecting the need for sleep now. Like he was some kind of camel storing sleep instead of water. It had its upsides and downsides. On the upside, he had plenty of spare time and no chance for nightmares. On the downside, he had plenty of spare time and nothing to distract him from his thoughts.

Thud thud. _Thud_. Thud thud _thud_.

Thoughts about this job. Thoughts about the past. These days, mostly thoughts about Maria Hill. She was smart. Beautiful. Sweet. Wary. But less so these days, and he didn't know how much longer he could keep control of himself around her. The woman drove him crazy. And she could say it didn't matter, but it mattered to him, and he had a conscience.

_So find - uff - a way to say it._

Tony told him getting married didn't matter these days. "It's the 21st century, Cap," he'd said. "Nobody cares if you put a ring on it, long as you do right by the woman."

But it mattered to Steve. The way he'd been raised, a gentleman didn't knock up a lady without making some serious commitment. And Steve believed in being a gentleman, even if nobody else thought it was important.

_Thud_. Thud thud.

The chain creaked a little. His breathing came harder, faster. Sweat dripped down under his eyes and between his shoulder-blades.

"Rough night?"

Steve spun around so quickly at the unexpected voice that the punching bag finished its swing and slammed into his shoulder. He caught his balance, kept from putting that last fist in her face, and tried to calm his racing heart. Classic Maria, catching him by surprise at his worst moment.

Steve cleared his throat a time or two; tried to compose his face and then gave up because he had to keep his mouth open to get enough air to his lungs; started shoving his hands in his pockets and remembered that looked nervous, and wound up looking down, toying with the edge of the tape on his left hand. "Uh - something like that..."

How was he supposed to explain this? Better to let her think he was having nightmares or something about the war. That was understandable. Normal. Forgivable. Maria looked fresh, of course, hair in place and one eyebrow raised. If she hadn't been in uniform, he would have said she was smirking.

"I've never seen you look so dismayed to see me," she observed, sounding anything but offended.

Steve cleared his throat again and forced himself to meet those blue eyes. "I - ah - you startled me. Didn't expect, uh..."

Her eyes moved across the room to the broken punching bag and back to him. "Been at it for a while, hm? Memories?"

He swallowed and glanced away again. "Yeah."

Maria tipped her head sideways, managed to catch his eyes again, and frowned. "You know by this time I can tell when you lie, Captain."

He ducked his head apologetically. "It's nothing."

She shot another glance at the broken bag and crossed her arms. "That thing says otherwise."

Steve sighed and started unwrapping his hands, pausing to wipe sweat out of his eyes with the back of one hand. "It's just...personal... decisions."

Right. 'Cause that sounds good.

"This have anything to do with you dropping me off early last night?" She had that look on her face, the one that went with her uniform, the one that said everything was facts and not emotion. But there was something else there - some look in her eyes, at the corners of her mouth - something that said this mattered. Some kind of worry. Fear maybe.

_Be honest with the woman, Rogers. She deserves that._

He'd dropped her off early because it was killing him; because he needed room to think; because when Steve Rogers lost control these days, hell knew what he was capable of breaking. He'd already put a hole through Tony's wall because the toaster had startled him. He wasn't letting the broken thing be Maria just because he couldn't repress some pent-up desires.

"It's...not you." Of course it was her. But mostly it was him - his inability to somehow figure out what to say. He'd known for months that he wanted to marry this woman, but she still seemed wary every time he stepped into her office. He was still scared that at any moment she might come to her senses, and the next time he tried to hold her hand or make her take a break from paperwork, she'd pull that gun on him. He was sure, but she - she always seemed like she wasn't completely certain this was a good idea, even as involved as they were now. She'd barely been okay with Fury knowing, despite the fact that they could hardly have continued to keep it secret from him if they'd tried.

_You propose to that woman and at best she's gonna call you crazy and walk out right now._

But there she was, arms crossed, that look on her face that could make the most obstinate rookie shut up and behave, and whatever he was saying, it was wrong.

"It's, ah..." He swallowed hard. Who's idea had it been to make the uniforms all those fitted catsuits anyway? Distracting; that was what it was. He closed his eyes for a minute and then gave up. Might as well go all in, right? Already had her wondering. Might as well be honest. "Look, I wasn't gonna...I was just thinking... This whole thing we're doing, this enjoying what we have while it's here, not knowing where it's going...I don't know how much longer I can -" He broke off looked away again. How were you supposed to say this? "This job, we never know - if I die tomorrow, I want to go knowing how I stood with you."

Maria blinked. "Steve, you're not gonna die tomorrow. You're practically unkillable."

"And if I don't," he went on, managing to meet her eyes by a monumental effort, "I wanna live the rest of my life with you. For sure." He was doing it all wrong. This wasn't the way to say it; this wasn't the way he wanted to try to tell her. "I'm not saying it right," he said after a minute, letting himself look away again. "Supposed to do this somewhere nice, buy a ring, get down on one knee... I wasn't gonna bring it up now..."

Her laugh surprised him. She never laughed on duty; it was one of those unspoken Agent Hill rules. Everything was serious in uniform. He blinked and met her eyes for a second before glancing back down at his hands.

"Are you trying to ask me to marry you?"

Stand straight. Meet her eyes. He squared his shoulders and nodded once, hands going into his pockets despite his efforts to look poised. "Yes. But I wasn't gonna bring it up now. Here. Like this." He waved one hand around. "I was going to, uh, wait for somewhere nicer. Without the uniforms. Punching bags. Security cameras." Come to think of it, sometime he didn't have sweat patches soaking through his shirt and that ripe, night-spent-in-the-gym smell emanating from his body.

Maria glanced up at the camera, swore under her breath, and took a step closer. "Cameras be damned," she muttered, reaching a hand to his shoulder.

_No, no, no, I smell…_ "I'm pretty sweaty, and-"

That was all he managed before she leaned up to kiss him, and then all he could do was try to get his hands out of his pockets fast enough to grab onto her in an attempt to keep his balance somehow, and kiss her back.

"Hell, Maria," he managed when she pulled away. "Shouldn't do that do a man. Dunno if my heart can take it."

She blinked once. "I'm not - I don't want to hurt you -"

He dragged in a long breath. "I mean physically - my heart - I don't think it's supposed to go this fast..."

Her eyes closed and she shook her head once. She was smiling, which was odd, because she was in uniform, and she never smiled in uniform. "Steve Rogers, you're the sweetest man I've ever met," she whispered.

"Is - uh -" He had to pause to clear his throat, hands tightening on her waist subconsciously. "That a 'yes,' Lieutenant? Or a nice goodbye?"

She stepped back and he let his hands fall to his sides again. "It's - give me time, okay?" Same thing she'd said the first day he'd kissed her. "Let me think."

Then he'd assumed it meant 'no' and she just hadn't wanted to say it straight out. Now he figured she was probably coming up with some good argument why it was a bad idea. But he nodded.

"Make it damn hard to think," she muttered as she turned away.

Steve watched her go, hands closing into fists as her black-clad form disappeared out the door. He barely noticed the other guys in the gym watching as he turned around again and drove his fist into the punching bag with redoubled force.

* * *

"That's not necessary." Maria's voice echoed in the almost-empty garage.

Steve shoved himself up onto one elbow beside his motorcycle, one grease-streaked hand holding a wrench and the other still under the engine. Tony had complained, too. Apparently if someone else could do a job these days, you were supposed to let them.

"I know, I know," he said. "Got plenty of good mechanics, and I have better things to do, right?" He dropped the wrench, withdrew his other hand, and sat up all the way. "But I have some spare time, and I like working on it. Feels good. Besides - it's an old friend; I couldn't just send it to some mechanic." And it gave his hands something to do when his mind was a mess. "What're you doing here anyway?"

She stepped around the motorcycle and paused a few feet away. "Legal stuff. Stark's being a pain in the ass again."

Steve chuckled, trying not to look like some creep as his eyes traveled up from her boots to her face. "Isn't he always?"

Maria seemed to have decided that Tony was a pain, no matter what he was actually doing – and probably, from her end, he was. Steve just had to work with the man, and he was extremely effective in the field and a decent guy off the job, once you got past his constant narcissism and apparent disregard for everyone and everything. He'd taken in this ragtag team without any genuine complaints, and so far he hadn't billed them anything. Steve figured in his book, that made Tony a decent guy. But Maria had to do his paperwork, so she probably had reason to complain.

"I didn't mean the motorcycle, Steve."

He blinked. He had barely seen her in two weeks. She'd been holed up in her office or Fury's, buried in paperwork or constantly on conference calls with various authorities. Then they'd gotten that job about the alleged biological threat in the Philippines, and then that flying spider thing that Thor had claimed was some intergalactic demon of some sort, and Steve had barely had a chance to think since the first call had come. He'd finished his reports without once having seen her, and he'd wound up down here, hiding out from Tony's invitations to a drinking competition with Thor and trying to focus on the motorcycle's rattling engine instead of the fact that he'd apparently completely ruined whatever he'd had with Maria. But now here she was.

"Getting married," she said. "Hell of a lot of trouble, and it's not necessary."

He didn't feel equal to this conversation sitting on the floor. He shoved himself to his feet, dusted off his elbows and the seat of his pants, and rubbed his greasy hands on his thighs even though he knew he couldn't get the engine grime off that way.

"It matters to me," he said.

Maria approached a few steps and then seemed to change her mind and stopped. "Hell, Steve, you know I'm all yours, whether or not you go to the trouble of legal documentation."

His breath caught in his throat and for a moment he couldn't force out any sound. "I know," he got out after a moment. _For now. Until it gets too complicated and you come to your senses._ "But it's important. To me, I mean."

"Why?"

Steve didn't know much about this kind of thing, but he had a feeling this wasn't a conversation most couples had when it came down to it. He tried to clear his head, come up with all those arguments that had seemed so logical before she'd caught him at the punching bag two weeks ago.

"Because it's a commitment. Because I love you." _That doesn't sound convincing, Rogers._ "Because as long as it's been, I'm still just a guy from the 40's trying to do something decent with his life, and my Momma raised me to be a gentleman, no matter what."

Maria held his eyes for a moment, and he had no idea what she was thinking. Then she nodded once. "That's what I thought you'd say."

_Does that mean 'yes?' Or 'no?' Or...more time? Or..._ He had no idea what else it could mean, but there were always possibilities. Probably it meant, "You've upset my orderly life long enough. It's time to stop."

But then she nodded again. "Okay."

Steve stared, realised his mouth was open, shut it. "You'll -"

Maria laughed. "Yes, Captain, I'll marry you."

"I don't have a ring." _You did this all wrong, Rogers._ But she said yes. He wasn't sure whether he was panicking or going into some kind of crazy euphoria.

"I say I'll marry you, and that's what you say?" She looked incredulous.

Steve suddenly remembered that he was probably supposed to be doing something besides standing there dumbly, but at the last moment he remembered that his hands were filthy and he hesitated, glancing down at them. "Yeah. I mean no, but -"

Maria laughed again - _damn_ that woman had a nice laugh - and slid her arms around his neck. "I want _you_ , Steve Rogers. I don't care about a ring. Or," she added, twisting her neck to glance down briefly, "dirty hands."

That was all the invitation Steve needed. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her until he couldn't breathe, and when he stopped, Maria was laughing. He discovered he had an oddly giddy urge to laugh, too, but he kissed her again instead and then buried his face in her hair for a long moment. "What do you think Fury'll say?" he whispered after he got his breath back. He felt her stiffen briefly.

"Oh hell..." But she didn't let go of him.


End file.
